


Well I'll Be Damned

by lynamoon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aziraphale is a Mess (Good Omens), Catholicism, Crowley is a Tease (Good Omens), Inappropriate Behavior, M/M, Mutual Pining, Priest Aziraphale (Good Omens), Religious Content, Short & Sweet, They/Them Pronouns for God (Good Omens), but its consensual, or whatever you believe in, perhaps a hand kink??, perhaps a leather kink??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25942048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynamoon/pseuds/lynamoon
Summary: God only knew what he was doing in a church.Maybe he was seeking salvation. Forgiveness for his sins. Maybe he just appreciated the gothic architecture. Couldn’t be the scripture. Nor the choir. And certainly not the priest with the curly, white hair and smile that rivaled the sun.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	Well I'll Be Damned

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was loosely inspired by @UsedtobeHMC 's priest Aziraphale comic on Instagram. The communion scene was just *chefs kiss* and I hope I did it justice with this short fic. Hope you enjoy! And check out their other work if you're into Good Omens!

God only knew what _he_ was doing in a church.

Maybe he was seeking salvation. Forgiveness for his sins. Maybe he just appreciated the gothic architecture. Couldn’t be the scripture. Nor the choir. And certainly not the priest with the curly, white hair and smile that rivaled the sun.

He didn’t seem the religious type. Fiery red hair, a plethora of tattoos and piercings, always wore black with a snakeskin choker. Not real though, as he had gathered.

“Don’t worry, it’s fake. I love animals, especially reptiles” The man assured.

“Oh, well very good. God delights in all of their creations” The priest replied.

“I bet they do…”

“Uh, yes…quite. And your name young man?”

“Crowley. And I’m not that young.”

The man looked to be in his mid-20s, so decidedly not a child.

“And I guess you go by Father? Or just Aziraphale?”

“You may call me whatever you like.”

“Alright then. I guess I’ll see you next Sunday, ‘Zira”

The priest grinned at the pet name. No one had ever called him that, but it seemed to fit coming out of his mouth.

“I look forward to it”

This interaction had been many Sundays ago, and they had gotten to know each other pretty well since then. They had quite a bit in common, actually. They shared a mutual love for plants, poetry, chocolate biscuits, and the well-known rock band Queen.

The next Sunday rolled around and he spotted Crowley in the congregation once more. He always sat with his arms draped over the top of the pew, one studded boot planted on the seat cushions. Aziraphale would’ve said something, but the man looked comfortable enough, even with the stares.

He certainly stood out. Faux leather on leather, black as usual. His sunglasses were always on, even indoors. He rested like watchful shadow amongst the decorous churchgoers.

Today’s mass was special. It was a day of communion. A remembrance of our God and their gifts to humanity. Each member of the congregation would take part in consuming the “body” (bread) and “blood” (wine, or in this instance, grape juice) of Christ. Aziraphale cherished this day, even going so far as to bake the loaves of bread himself. Store-bought wafers could never compete.

When it was time, the congregation stood from their pews and formed a line up to the altar. It was ornately painted with gold cherubs and ribbons with a large cross adorning the front. The gold details matched the trim on the priests cream-colored robe near perfectly.

Aziraphale offered a piece of bread and a small cup of juice to each parishioner; softly uttering a prayer before moving on to the next. One by one they ate and drank and made their way back to their seats for one final prayer before dismissal.

As Aziraphale attended to the crowd, he failed to notice the man in black at the end of the line. He reached to tear off another piece of bread and grab a cup.

“And to y--you” The priest stuttered in surprise. The man stood mere inches away from him. He could even make out the tiniest freckles dotting his nose and cheeks.

“What, surprised?” Crowley asked, tipping his sunglasses slightly. His eyes were an amber hue, flecks of yellow-gold catching the light. Aziraphale briefly wondered why in all the world he would hide them away behind those dark shades.

“No, I’m just… glad to see you today”

“Same here. Couldn’t turn down a pretty face”

“…I…what?” He stammered.

“Or free food” Crowley added.

At that, he dipped his head towards Aziraphales hand. Aziraphale raised his palm to offer the bread. Crowley took a light hold of his wrist, eyeing up at the robed man before him. Aziraphale quietly gasped and found himself unable to move.

Crowley opened his mouth to accept the bread offering.

Then, he darted his tongue out, licking the underside of Aziraphale’s index finger.

The priest felt a blush creeping over his face. He hadn’t known Crowley had a tongue piercing, and Lord above he’d never be able to forget now. By all accounts, he should be disgusted at the unhygienic invasion of his personal space. But, inexplicably, all he felt was a familiar heat rising much more south than he would’ve liked at this particular moment.

Crowley sunk his teeth into the bread, dragging his teeth ever so gently over the priest’s palm. He then released the man’s hand and reached for the cup of juice in Aziraphale’s other hand. He chewed and swallowed the bread before downing the liquid like a shot. He licked his lips, flashing the metallic jewelry once more as he did.

“Thank you, Father” Crowley winked with a lascivious grin.

Aziraphale released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in. He quickly scanned the crowd for any scandalized faces. The rest of churchgoers had apparently not witnessed what just transpired between the two.

He couldn’t help but notice how Crowley’s skin-tight leather pants moved against his slim figure as he walked away. They hugged his backside incredibly well, and hid next to nothing from the front.

Aziraphale blinked in a failed attempt to clear his mind. He was suddenly all too glad that his robe hid certain parts of his body from the unknowing fellowship.

Next Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.


End file.
